Facade
by The Slash Faerie
Summary: SLASH: BZ-HP-DM Draco Malfoy prides himself on being the meanest, richest kid at Hogwarts. Or does he? And can Harry Potter, savior of the wizard world, be so easily manipulated? The question is, by whom? Please R&R!
1. Facade Disclaimer

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**Facade**

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**By:** The Slash Faerie

**Rating:** Pg-13 . . . for now. evil grin

**Warnings:** Just wanted to say right here and now that this is purely a SLASH fic. That's same sex relationships, in this case, boy/boy lovin'! So if that's not your cup of tea, then don't bother reading the actual fic.

**Spoilers:** (quite possibly SS, PS, CoS, PoA, GoF,) and OotP (mostly OotP though)

**Content:** Slashy tendencies? Oh hell yea. Possible violence, depression, manipulation, slight domination . . . But, don't worry, there will eventually be fluff!! YAY!

**Summary:** Draco Malfoy prides himself on being the meanest, richest kid at Hogwarts. Or does he? Can Harry Potter, savior of the wizard world, be so easily manipulated? And the question is, by whom? (Sucky summary, hopefully the fic's a lot better . . .)

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately I own none of these characters . . . if I did would I be sitting here writing some stupid fan fic? I think not. Lucky woman, that J.K. Rowling.

**Characters:** Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini

(appearances by others . . .)

**A/N: **I'm pretty knew to the whole world of HP fan fiction . . . I've just started to write and read HP fan fics, so I doubt this will be any good, or progress quickly. Hell, I don't even have a plot figured out yet. Oh well, I'll do that as I go along . . .

**A/N 2:** The character's might seems slightly, or very much so OOC. When I write, I don't think about it, I just do it. So, I apologize for any out of character-ness right now. I'd assume Draco and Blaise would be the ones most OOC. You see, I really wanted to use another Slytherin guy, and I remember Blaise's name from the books, but that's about it. I don't know what purpose he served, if any in the series, or what he looked like. So, this is just my characterization/interpretation of him. I'm most likely going to make him look the way I think he would . . .

**Pairings:** Blaise/Harry/Draco love triangle type thing . . . more on that later. Maybe a bit of Ron/Hermione if the spirit moves me

. . . Which I doubt.

**Timeframe:** Sixth year. Sirius has died . . . sob . . . and Harry is now 16, and Voldemort is back, but biding his time for a full comeback. (Meaning there probably won't be any Uncle Voldie in this fic . . . but you never know I might get adventurous . . . shrugs)

Hope you all enjoy! Read on, and Rock out!

The Slash Faerie


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes**

If you didn't read the Default Chapter, the timeframe is the beginning of sixth year. For more details read the author's notes, etc, in the Default Chapter. And once again, this is a SLASH fic, so if you don't like it, then don't read it. The journal enteries are in _italics._ Anyway, read on, and rock out!

**Façade**

**Chapter 1**

The echo of a quill scratching rapidly against thick parchment filled the nearly empty dungeons. Long, slim, pale fingers, tightly grasped a small black book, as a slouched figure poured over it in concentration. In thought, the figure sucked on the end of an elegant eagle feather quill, with full lips. The scratching of the quill stopped, as the person read over their thoughts.

_It's all an act. That's what my entire life is. A façade. I strive to make people believe that I'm nothing but a slimy git who knows nothing but greed and cruelty. But, in reality . . . it's all a lie. I hate living like this, making people believe I'm something I'm not. The truth is . . . I'm scared. Of him. Father. He's a borderline tyrant who could make the greatest giant cower in fear. A 'respected' man and feared above all else, he's pressed his theories of the Magical World upon our family and society. Heaven forbid someone disagrees with him . . ._Draco read rapidly. That sounded about right. He shifted his leg slightly, making a more comfortable position for himself on the stone floor, and resumed his writing again.

He had been sitting there, in the Slytherin Common Room alone, contemplating things for the better of the beautiful Saturday afternoon. This of course, was a very un-Malfoy-like thing to do. Not like he cared at the moment. Normally however, Draco would be taking advantage of the wonderful weather, possibly doing a few labs around the Quidditch pitch on his Nimbus 2001. But today was slightly different . . . today, things that had been irking him all his life, had finally gotten to Draco.

Draco was writing so swiftly that his mind could practically keep up. It had been comprised of muddled thoughts for the majority of the day.

_I remember when I was three, when I first showed signs of being something Father feared. Something less than evil, something less than cruel, cold hearted and narrow minded. I made friends with a 'lowly' Muggle. I was with Mother, on out way to Diagon Alley. We used the train, and went through the Muggle road to get to the Leaky Cauldron. And that's where I met the only true friend I ever had, ironically being a Muggle, who like me for me, not my money or power. You see, Mother thought it would be nice if I saw what the Muggle world looked like. Father . . . Lucius had always forbid me from mingling with 'their kind', so I had never even seen a mere Muggle shop. I looked at this a new experience, an adventure. Of course, being only three, everything was an adventure._

Upon writing this, Draco smiled slightly, fondly remembering his childhood, when everything seemed right in the world. When he was too young to understand the horrible things that went on in the world, some that his own father had caused. He quickly shook his head not willing to think about the pain and suffering his father had caused so many people . . . for his mother . . . for Draco.

_Mother made sure Lucius never found out about our adventures into the Muggle world. She would always tell him we were in desperate need of a new cauldron, or were out of eye of newt, and so on as not to make him suspicious._

A smirk played across Draco's lips. His mother, Narcissa, was always quite sneaky . . . but never sinister as his father. Never sinister as what Lucius wanted him, Draco to become. Draco grimaced at the thought of this. Only in Lucius' wildest dreams was that happening . . . Draco would never join the Dark Side, or be truly the truly evil wizard that was expected of him. He wouldn't allow himself to be so submissive to the commands of his father anymore. Draco quickly turned to a new page of parchment in the little book, as he'd already filled up a page and continued writing heatedly.

_How am I ever going to stand up to him? No . . . when an I ever going to stand up to him. I' sick of living my life in Fear. Fear that he'll find out what I'm really like. Who I really am. Something totally opposite from what he expects me to be. The way Lucius treats people . . . it's horrible. And he has expected me to do the same all my life. And I of course, have complied. Not willingly, but I've went a long wit all of his wished._

A grim expression crept upon Draco's pale face as he continued to write with fervor.

_I'm a coward, I know that. But I suppose that runs in the Malfoy family . . . and so does a quick temper underneath that cool demeanor. That's why Lucius can never find out how much I despise the way he's chosen to live his life . . .how much I hate him. He'd never actually kill his only air to Malfoy 'throne' so to say, but then again, he would come bloody near close._

* * *

Blaise Zabini stared absently around the fairly empty common room. It was the first Saturday back from summer holiday, so who could blame anyone for wanting to bask in the suns warm rays? Blaise had seriously considered going outside, until Pansy Parkinson had flirtatiously bounced over to him, tugged at his robes playfully, and begged him to go for a walk with her along the lake. Well for Blaise, that just about killed any desires he had about venturing out doors. Sure, Pansy was a sweet girl to her fellow housemates, but she was also bloody annoying.

Blaise wasn't thick, he was aware he was next on Pansy's long list of potential boyfriends'. He was surprised to see that she had finally moved on from a one Draco Malfoy. It had only taken her a better of two years, but Pansy finally got the hint that Draco wasn't interested. And now, it was Blaise's turn to endure Pansy's aggravation affections. He had politely declined, feeding the Flirt of the Slytherin house a lame excuse of 'suddenly not feeling so well'. And so, this is how Blaise had come to be sitting alone in the frigid and dreary common room, in a squashy armchair by the fire, staring idly into space.

It was then he finally took notice to the incessant scratching noise coming from the corner of the dungeon. Blaise raised his gaze from the floor to the far corner of the common room, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy huddled up, with a look of deep concentration on his face, writing in what looked like a small black book. Odd . . . Quite odd . . . Blaise pondered, surveying Malfoy and then the rest of the common room. As it turned out, he and Draco were the only two left inside.

Even more strange . . . why the hell is Malfoy in here on a day like this . . . and more importantly, alone, he wondered thoughtfully. 'I'm surprised the stupid git hasn't thrown a nasty comment my way yet. Although, he might not have even noticed me . . . I wonder what he's writing that's got him so oblivious to everything. Then again, when does he ever care about anyone else?' Blaise let his gaze rest in the direction of Malfoy, though not really paying much mind to the pale, yet elegant blonde.

It was not secret; Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy just did not get along. They were like night and day, light and dark, the exact opposites. Blaise sometimes wondered how he ever ended up getting sorted into Slytherin in the first place; he wasn't narrow minded, or had ever shown any signs of being a Dark Wizard, or even remotely veil for that matter. Malfoy was an entirely different story: A Death Eater for a father, narrow minded as could be, and the attitude of arrogance and superiority always following him. Unlike Malfoy, Blaise had friends in all houses though kept to himself most of the time. But when it came down to it, Blaise absolutely despised Malfoy, and he could tell the feeling was mutual; the rich snot couldn't stand Blaise. Though, not as much as Malfoy hated Harry Potter and his friends, Blaise could tell.

Harry Potter . . . now that's a nice thought. A smile made its way to Blaise's face at the mere thought of The Boy Who Lived. Ever since first year, Blaise had been harboring a crush for the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Over the years this innocent crush had grown to be more . . . it was on the verge of obsession. And Blaise knew this, but did not think much of it. No, most of his time was spent thinking about Harry Potter anyways. Those brilliant jade green eyes always filled with so much emotion that shined like emeralds, that flyaway ebony hair, which smooth, lightly tanned skin that he longed to touch . . . it all haunted Blaise, day in and day out. 'And he doesn't even notice me . . . probably doesn't even know my name. But he will, one day, he definitely will.'

A smirk crept across Blaise's face at the thought. That day would be inevitably soon, he was sure of it. Blaise's time to make Harry Potter his was drawing nearer, and when that day came, it would be his biggest triumph in life.

* * *

Draco could feel a pair of eyes on him, as if seeing right through him, and frankly it was rather unnerving. He snapped his head up, and his gaze met with that of Blaise Zabini. Draco noted that Zabini had his face twisted in an odd sort of grin . . . He looked almost psychotic. That's odd, even for a git like Zabini, Draco thought. And then Zabini blinked, and roughly shook himself out of the daze he so obviously was in. He replaced the disturbing grin with a snarl, as he continued to lock eyes with Draco. In turn, Draco smirked, got up from the stone floor, brushed himself off, and gathered his things.

"See something you like Zabini? I know I'm hot and all, but please, learn to control your drool. And next time Zabini, I'll charge a fee for all that staring you were doing." And with one last malicious smirk, Draco headed over to the boy's dormitories.

* * *

He was furious. Why did he always let ruddy Malfoy had the last word? Blaise swiped a tanned arm across his mouth. Indeed, he had been drooling. 'Not over that insufferable git of course . . . just think about him gives me the creeps. Unfortunately, I can't control what I do when I start thinking about Harry. But no worry he'll be mine soon enough.'

And with a smirk of his own, Blaise turned back to the roaring fire, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. As he stared into the flames, the light illuminated his face making it seem once again intimidating as slightly psychotic.

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Author's Notes

Well how utterly bad was it? I'm not too pleased with how it came . . . Blaise creeps me out a bit, but I think that's what I was going for. shrugs I think Malfoy's character needs a bit more fin tuning though . . . Initially, Draco wasn't going to be writing or anything, the entire chapter was going to be in his POV, but I changed it last minute. So it may have sounded a little odd . . . hehe . . . ah well. shrugs Harry will most likely be in the next chapter, and more of Draco's 'journal' entries (or whatever the 'little black book' is to him), and of course, more freaky, obsessive Blaise. I doubt I'll update very quickly, but I'll try my hardest. Well if you're bothered enough feel free to drop a review. Praise, constructive criticism, flames, I don't really care. I like feedback so I know what I can do to improve. Anyways, thanks for reading, even if it was most likely a waste of time . . . heh.

**Rage and Sunshine,**

**The Slash Faerie**


	3. Chapter 1 Rewrite

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**Author's Notes**

This is a rewrite of the 1st chapter. I just thought I'd post it, and maybe get some feedback as to which you guys like better. Again, the journal enteries are in _italics._

**Façade**

**Chapter 1**

The echo of a quill scratching rapidly against thick parchment filled the nearly empty dungeons. Long, slim, pale fingers, tightly grasped a small black book, as a slouched figure poured over it in concentration. In thought, the figure sucked on the end of an elegant eagle feather quill, with full lips. The scratching of the quill stopped, as the person read over their thoughts.

_Ever had one of those days were you just feel like screaming your head off? Yea, it's one of those days. I swear, anyone, and I mean anyone comes near me right now; I might just hex them into next month. I suppose I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed . . . or it could be the letter I received from Mother today._

Draco Malfoy had been sitting there, in the Slytherin Common Room alone, contemplating things for the better of the beautiful Saturday afternoon. This of course, was a very un-Malfoy-like thing to do. Not like he cared at the moment. Normally however, Draco would be taking advantage of the wonderful weather, possibly doing a few labs around the Quidditch pitch on his Nimbus 2001. But today was slightly different . . . today, things that had been irking him all his life, had finally gotten to Draco. He began to read the beginning of his Mother's letter to himself, grasped tightly in his pale hand.

_Oh dear Draco darling, I miss you soooooo much, the Manor is so lonely with out you. I'll be sure to send you some cookies through--_

Draco crumpled up the letter in an angry ball of parchment with his fist. He shifted his weight a little, and began writing again.

_Bullshit, she probably didn't even know I was gone. And all of a sudden she wants to make up for the years of neglect, now? I don't think so, Draco Malfoy forgets nothing, forgives no one._

He was writing so swiftly that his mind could practically keep up. It had been comprised of muddled thoughts for the majority of the day.

All his life, he'd never had to wonder what was going to happen next, never needed to make his own decisions. Things were always done for him, and most of the time, he had no resentment about this. When Draco was young, he had believed that where his father led him would be the right path. Now, at the age of sixteen, Draco was far from sure of this. Over the summer, the teenage wizard had begun to really mull things over. He thought about his family, himself as a person, his future, and the life that he was going to lead, and more importantly the one he wanted to lead. And at this moment in time, Draco Malfoy was a very confused soul. The one thing he'd come to a conclusion about was too much thinking never did the brain any good.

_I've never had the best family life. Sure they spoil me rotten, but that doesn't mean they like me, or vice versa. My Mother always kept to herself, in the west side of the Manor. She's always making her presence known at parties and other social events, showing off, and pretending we're the happiest family that ever existed. But I know better, and if anyone who has a brain should know better to. But then again, we Malfoy's are known for are excellent acting skills and cool attitudes under pressure. No wonder where I get it from . . ._

Draco smirked slightly, and dipped his quill into the ink jar next to him.

He had to admit, it felt rather good to get his feelings out like this. It's not like he could talk to anyone about anything as deep as his feelings. Feelings were something a Malfoy was never supposed to show often. And it would probably be easier to talk to the Womping Willow, than have an intelligent conversation with Crabbe and Goyle. There was always Parkinson . . . no, she'd have Draco undressed and tied down before he could even get a word out of his mouth. Yes, writing it down in some stupid journal was definitely the best and easiest thing to do.

_And then there's father. When he is home, he's either in Death Eater mode, or 'I'm a rich git, here me roar' mode, so it's best not to bother him. Not that I'd want to. Father and I have never been extremely close, but something drastically changed during our relationship last year. I'm not really sure what, but I could just feel it. Over the summer, I did a lot of thinking about him, and the way he his. I vowed to myself that if I ever become like him I'll bow down and kiss Dumbledork's feet. Yea, like that'll ever happen. Oh, and speaking of bowing, a Malfoy bows to no one. Or so my father says. Yet why is he so eager to lick the dirt off of the Dark Lord's shoes then? Hmmm? Can we say hypocrite? I'll never be like that . . . Although the Dark Lord fights for a somewhat decent cause, I'm not going to be a lowly servant to him. But come on, I'm not even that obsessed with the type parentage a wizard has, and Muggles and Mudblood's aren't as bad as I pretend they are. Sure, I still can't stand them, and I'm still better, but they don't deserve to be wiped off the face of the Earth, now do they? And who in Merlin's beard would risk there lives to fight for someone like the Dark Lord? He'd most likely kill you first through torture or something of that nature, before you get killed by a member of the Order._

He mulled over what he had just written, and nodded firmly. It was decided at long last. Draco would never join the Dark Side, or be truly the truly evil wizard that was expected of him. He wouldn't allow himself to be so submissive to the commands of his father anymore. Draco quickly turned to a new page of parchment in the little book, as he'd already filled up a page and continued writing heatedly.

_What am I going to do if Father finds out? I'm going to stand up to him, that's what. The way Lucius treats people . . . it's horrible. And he has expected me to do the same all my life. And I of course, have complied. Willingly. Sometimes I believe if had been brought up differently, I would be a better person. I know, that deep down inside the way I act isn't write. But it's who I am, and it's not going to change. Whoa! Stop the presses; did Draco Malfoy just admit a flaw in himself? Mark this day down in history folks, because it isn't going to happen again! _

A grim expression crept upon Draco's pale face as he continued to write with fervor.

_At the moment I'm almost glad to say that father is in Azkaban. For now. He'll escape, I know he will. With the help of his 'Lord' no doubt. He's a coward for having to depend on another for power . . . But I suppose cowardliness runs in the Malfoy family . . . and so does a quick temper underneath that cool demeanor. That's why father isn't going to find out, at the moment anyways, of my decision not to join the Dark Side. No matter what, I'll stand by that. Whatever happens, this is my decision, the first real decision I've ever made for myself. And nothing he can do will change it. Let's hope a few months in Azkaban has cooled that temper . . . He'll never actually kill his only air to Malfoy 'throne' so to say, but then again, he would come bloody near close._

__

* * *

Blaise Zabini stared absently around the fairly empty common room. It was the first Saturday back from summer holiday, so who could blame anyone for wanting to bask in the suns warm rays? Blaise had seriously considered going outside, until Pansy Parkinson had flirtatiously bounced over to him, tugged at his robes playfully, and begged him to go for a walk with her along the lake. Well for Blaise, that just about killed any desires he had about venturing out doors. Sure, Pansy was a sweet girl to her fellow housemates, but she was also bloody annoying.

Blaise wasn't thick, he was aware he was next on Pansy's long list of potential boyfriends'. He was surprised to see that she had finally moved on from a one Draco Malfoy. It had only taken her a better of two years, but Pansy finally got the hint that Draco wasn't interested. And now, it was Blaise's turn to endure Pansy's aggravation affections. He had politely declined, feeding the Flirt of the Slytherin house a lame excuse of 'suddenly not feeling so well'. And so, this is how Blaise had come to be sitting alone in the frigid and dreary common room, in a squashy armchair by the fire, staring idly into space.

It was then he finally took notice to the incessant scratching noise coming from the corner of the dungeon. Blaise raised his gaze from the floor to the far corner of the common room, and saw none other than Draco Malfoy huddled up, with a look of deep concentration on his face, writing in what looked like a small black book. 'Odd . . . Quite odd . . .' Blaise pondered, surveying Malfoy and then the rest of the common room. As it turned out, he and Draco were the only two left inside.

Even more strange . . . why the hell is Malfoy in here on a day like this . . . and more importantly, alone, he wondered thoughtfully. I'm surprised the stupid git hasn't thrown a nasty comment my way yet. Although, he might not have even noticed me . . . I wonder what he's writing that's got him so oblivious to everything. Then again, when does he ever care about anyone else? Blaise let his gaze rest in the direction of Malfoy, though not really paying much mind to the pale, yet elegant blonde.

It was not secret; Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy just did not get along. They were like night and day, light and dark, the exact opposites. Blaise sometimes wondered how he ever ended up getting sorted into Slytherin in the first place; he wasn't narrow minded, or had ever shown any signs of being a Dark Wizard, or even remotely veil for that matter. Malfoy was an entirely different story: A Death Eater for a father, narrow minded as could be, and the attitude of arrogance and superiority always following him. Unlike Malfoy, Blaise had friends in all houses though kept to himself most of the time. But when it came down to it, Blaise absolutely despised Malfoy, and he could tell the feeling was mutual; the rich snot couldn't stand Blaise. Though, not as much as Malfoy hated Harry Potter and his friends, Blaise could tell.

Harry Potter . . . now that's a nice thought. A smile made its way to Blaise's face at the mere thought of The Boy Who Lived. Ever since first year, Blaise had been harboring a crush for the Gryffindor Golden Boy. Over the years this innocent crush had grown to be more . . . it was on the verge of obsession. And Blaise knew this, but did not think much of it. No, most of his time was spent thinking about Harry Potter anyways. Those brilliant jade green eyes always filled with so much emotion that shined like emeralds, that flyaway ebony hair, which smooth, lightly tanned skin that he longed to touch . . . it all haunted Blaise, day in and day out. And he doesn't even notice me . . . probably doesn't even know my name. But he will, one day, he definitely will.

A smirk crept across Blaise's face at the thought. That day would be inevitably soon, he was sure of it. Blaise's time to make Harry Potter his was drawing nearer, and when that day came, it would be his biggest triumph in life.

* * *

Draco could feel a pair of eyes on him, as if seeing right through him, and frankly it was rather unnerving. He snapped his head up, and his gaze met with that of Blaise Zabini. Draco noted that Zabini had his face twisted in an odd sort of grin . . . He looked almost psychotic. 'That's odd, even for a git like Zabini.' Draco thought. And then Zabini blinked, and roughly shook himself out of the daze he so obviously was in. He replaced the disturbing grin with a snarl, as he continued to lock eyes with Draco. In turn, Draco smirked, got up from the stone floor, brushed himself off, and gathered his things.

"See something you like Zabini? I know I'm hot and all, but please, learn to control your drool. And next time Zabini, I'll charge a fee for all that staring you were doing." And with one last malicious smirk, Draco headed over to the boy's dormitories.

He was furious. Why did he always let ruddy Malfoy had the last word? Blaise swiped a tanned arm across his mouth. Indeed, he had been drooling. He scowled. Not over that insufferable git of course . . . just think about him gives me the creeps. Unfortunately, I can't control what I do when I start thinking about Harry. But no worry he'll be mine soon enough.

And with a smirk of his own, Blaise turned back to the roaring fire, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. As he stared into the flames, the light illuminated his face making it seem once again intimidating as slightly psychotic.

* * *

Author's Notes

Well how utterly bad was it? I've completely **Re-written** Draco's journal entries, so his character is totally different. Before, Draco was hiding who he really was because of his father, but now I decided to try to keep him more in-character. 'Try' is the key word there.

I'm not too pleased with how it came . . . Blaise creeps me out a bit, but I think that's what I was going for. shrugs I think Malfoy's character needs a bit more fine tuning though . . . shrugs again Harry will most likely be in the next chapter, and more of Draco's 'journal' entries, and of course, more freaky, obsessive Blaise. I'm trying not to make this too HP fan fiction cliché, but it's getting a bit hard. Oh well, we'll see how it goes. I doubt I'll update very quickly, but I'll try my hardest. Well if you're bothered enough feel free to drop a review. Praise, constructive criticism, flames, I don't really care. I like feedback so I know what I can do to improve. Anyways, thanks for reading, even if it was most likely a waste of time . . . heh.

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**Rage and Sunshine,**

**The Slash Faerie**


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